


Mistress Granger

by Valencia_Graves



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Autofellatio, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Candles, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Cages, Cock Rings, Degradation, Draco Malfoy is a Little Slut, Dubious Consent, F/M, Femdom, Foot Jobs, Forced-Bi, Humiliation, Masturbation, Naked Male Clothed Female, Oral Sex, Pegging, Sounding, Spanking, Underwear, Underwear Kink, Watersports, Waxing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-09-01 15:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20260513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valencia_Graves/pseuds/Valencia_Graves
Summary: Draco Malfoy just wants to keep his head down, avoid expulsion, and try to stay out of Azkaban now that the war is over. Hermione Granger has other plans.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

* * *

Draco cursed under his breath as he made his way through the darkened corridors of Hogwarts, well aware that he was out past curfew and that if he was caught, this would be the end for him. The Headmistress had made it perfectly clear that if he stepped so much as a toe out of line now that she’d graciously allowed him back to complete his seventh year of Hogwarts, he’d be expelled in a heartbeat, and while a part of him knew that she was probably just trying to scare him, he didn’t really want to test the theory. 

_ Bloody Blaise _ , he thought, cursing his best friend’s name as he ducked around a corner. If that tosser hadn’t left Draco’s transfiguration textbook in the library, he’d never have had to rush to get it before curfew, and he’d have never ended up having to wait on Madam Pince to ponderously search through the lost-and-found, and he’d probably be sitting beside the fireplace in his common room finishing his transfiguration homework  _ that was due tomorrow _ . 

Why Blaise had even needed his transfiguration textbook in the first place, Draco would likely never know, given that his best friend didn’t bloody do transfiguration. It was probably to try and flirt with one of those Ravenclaws again, he thought to himself. If he got caught, he was going to toss Blaise into the lake. 

Preferably through one of the windows in their dormitory, but then there’d be the risk of flooding the Slytherin dormitories. Right, the plan could probably use work, but one way or another, Blaise was going to end up in the lake. 

The sound of footsteps echoed down the next corridor, and Draco froze before darting into the nearest classroom. It was probably a prefect making their rounds, he thought, which was rather worse than if it had been a teacher. He  _ might  _ have been able to slither his way out of trouble with some of the softer teachers, but the prefects? The Slytherin ones had his back, but the rest would drag him to the Headmistress’ office before he’d have the chance to say a single word. 

The footsteps grew closer, and Draco swore under his breath at the sound of creaking doors. Bloody hell, they were checking the classrooms. He glanced around the room, looking for a hiding spot. Realizing that there was only one that would work, he ducked under the teacher’s desk in the nick of time. The door creaked open, wandlight spilling into the empty classroom, and his heart was racing in his chest. 

He  _ could _ not get caught. The war had left him on thin ice despite his last minute change of allegiance, and the last thing he needed right now was an expulsion under his belt. With his criminal record and no NEWTs, he’d probably turn into one of those useless twats who did nothing but live on their family gold. 

Once upon a time, such a life had seemed like a lovely idea to him, but now that he was nearing his eighteenth birthday, Draco actually had career goals and life plans. It had been a surprise to him at first as well, but he’d rather taken to the idea of being a healer. 

Which he wouldn’t be able to do if he was expelled, and to avoid expulsion, he’d have to avoid the prefect who was still standing in the bloody doorway, and really, this was Blaise’s fault. 

“You realise I can see your foot, right?” asked an all too familiar voice, and a chill ran down Draco’s spine.  _ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  _ Of course it was her. The Gods really did hate him, didn’t they? 

“Maybe pretend you didn’t?” he called back, and no sooner than the words left his mouth did he want to slap himself in the face. Why could he never keep from retorting when that bloody know-it-all was involved. 

Realizing there was no point in hiding now that he’d been caught, Draco gingerly climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. 

“Granger,” he said, masking his apprehension as well as he could. “I’m in trouble, I take it.”

Something flickered across Granger’s eyes, a hint of broken darkness that he didn’t like in the slightest. With a flick of her wand, the door slid shut behind her, and with a second flick, the lock turned. He swallowed, his apprehension growing, because she seemed to be savouring this. 

“I’d say so,” she said. “What was it that Professor McGonagall say, Malfoy? Not a toe out of line? Being out this late past curfew is more than a toe, in my opinion.”

“Listen.” Draco raised his hands in surrender, hoping beyond hope that she wasn’t the type to hold grudges. “I honestly didn’t mean to be out late, it’s just that—”

“The reasoning isn’t that important, Malfoy,” she interrupted, a smirk curving across her lips. “What matters is that you’ve broken a few rules, and now I have to decide what to do with you. Dock a few points, report you to the headmistress, maybe give you a few detentions… So many options.”

Draco wanted nothing more than to yell something snide at her, but for the first time in his life, he bit his tongue. No. He had goals, and he was determined to fulfill them. Antagonising her now would only serve to put him in hotter water than he already was, so he just had to play nice and act like he wasn’t hexing her nine ways to hell in his mind. 

“What, Malfoy?” she continued when he was silent. “No grovelling?”

“I’d rather not,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just… do what you’re going to do and let me get back to my dorm.”

The dark look flashed across her eyes once again, and her smirk grew. Chuckling in a way that raised he hairs along his arms, she perched upon the edge of the nearest desk and raised her wand to her mouth. The tip pressed against her lower lip, and there was a thoughtful look on her face as she surveyed him. 

“Fine, Malfoy,” she said. “How about I just let you go, no docked points or reports, for a small price?”

“What kind of price?” he asked suspiciously, not quite liking what he’s hearing. Deals are dangerous things, and he’s paid a lot of prices already. 

“Strip,” she ordered, her tongue flicking out to lick at her lips.

The entire world screeched to a halt around him, and he could do nothing else but splutter in shock and indignation. Was she insane? Was he insane? Maybe he was having a nightmare and none of this was real. Pinching himself, Draco swallowed thickly, realizing that this was very real and that yes, she had said what she’d said. 

Had Granger hit her head? 

“Come again?” he finally managed, his eyes wider than saucers. 

“You heard me, Malfoy,” she said, her wand still digging into her lower lip. “Strip, and I’ll let you go.”

“You’re mental.” He absolutely did not want to strip, and he did not want to humiliate himself in front of her. Yet, the threat was clear in the tense air between them, weighing upon his shoulders like bricks. Granger had all the cards in her hand, even if she had probably gone mad from all the time she spent cooped up in the dusty library, and the dark glint in her eyes was deathly serious. 

“Is that a no?” she asked, her eyes flickering in the dim light cast by her wand. “That’s okay, I suppose. We’ll just have to visit the headmistress’ office together, then.”

She hopped off the desk, her skirt flaring around her knees, and she turned towards the door.  _ Mother of Merlin, she was serious.  _ Draco tried to say something, but the words came out choked. He’d be expelled, and he’d never be a healer, and he’d likely never be able to become the head of the hospital either.  _ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  _

“Fine,” he yelled as her fingers closed upon the door handle, the words of the unlocking spell on the tip of her tongue. “Fine, you win.”

“Figured you’d see things my way.” Granger wore a feral grin on her face as she returned to her perch upon the desk, and he winced at the glint in her eyes. Merlin, this was wrong. His cheeks blazed like fire, and his fingers trembled as he dumped his bag onto the teacher’s desk behind him. 

Painfully aware of her eyes on him, he slipped out of his shoes before removing his coat. He’d been so close to the dungeons, he thought, and it was chilly. Looking up at her with a pleading expression, his heart sank as he saw that she was still deathly serious, that she wasn’t just pulling a mean prank. 

He fumbled at the buttons of his shirt before letting the garment fall to the floor. She was staring, the tip of her wand between her lips, her gaze moving from his clavicles to his nipples to the faint outline of his lithely muscled abdomen, to the trail of downy blond hair running from his navel to the waistline of his trousers. His breath hitched, and he looked up again. 

“Granger, you’ve made your point,” and he hated the pleading note in his voice, the grovelling she’d mocked him about at the very beginning of this sordid encounter.

“I don’t think I have,” she murmured. “But I’m kind, so you can keep your boxers… for now.”

A shudder ran down his spine at the words  _ for now.  _ The hairs on his arms and the nape of his neck stood on end as he reached for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it away to let it fall to the ground with a clink. Finally, swallowing thickly, he worked on his trousers, bending over to get them off along with his socks. 

“Very nice,” said Hermione, and Draco could only stare. 

Mortification bubbled through his veins as she hooked a pinky between her lips, his cheeks blazing. His legs were weak as he stood before her in his underwear, his black boxer-briefs hugging his lithe frame like a second skin and leaving little to the imagination. When her eyes lingered on his bulge, his knees shook, the chill air running along his skin like a dozen spectral hands. 

He had nothing witty or insulting to say—what could he say? She was clothed, still in her uniform, and he was laid bare before her glinting eyes. He bit his lower lip to keep his teeth from chattering, his heart racing in his ears as she hopped off the desk. 

“Turn around,” she ordered, her voice a silky whisper that wrapped around his throat like a noose. A twinge ran through him, and he shook his head. 

“Granger, c’mon, you’ve had your fun,” he muttered. “Just… can I get dressed and leave.”

“No,” she replied. “Turn around, or we’ll have a problem.”

Shivering, Draco turned. Her footsteps echoed in his ears as she approached, and he was well aware that if his boxers couldn’t mask his bulge, they were definitely not masking the curve of his arse. He shuddered, but before he could do anything more, she’d shoved him forward. 

With a yelp, he stumbled against the desk. Bracing himself with his hands, he whipped his head around to see her standing right behind him, rolling up her sleeves. His eyes widened, and a sharp crack echoed through the room as she slapped him across the left arse-cheek. 

“Fuck,” he swore as pain radiated across his skin, his underwear serving to only damper the sting by a breath. He nearly doubled over at the second blow, this time on his right cheek, and he gasped, fighting to find his words. 

“Bloody hell, Granger, what—”

“Did I give you permission to speak?” she asked, still in that silky voice. 

Despite wanting to scream, Draco found his arguments dying in his throat. He could only glare, exposed and vulnerable, as she ran a hand over his stinging arse, cupping each cheek with a smile playing across her lips. The absurdity was setting in along with the humiliation: he was bending over a fucking table, stripped to his underwear, and she had  _ spanked  _ him like a naughty child. 

He made to move, to grab his clothes and dart from the room before whatever sick game she was playing could go any further. Fuck it, he’d get expelled for being out of bounds, but at least he wouldn’t be her plaything. He’d tell the headmistress what she’d made him do. Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, a voice whispered in his ear,  _ And she’ll say you’ll lying. Who’ll they believe?  _

Draco shuddered, but just as he’d tried to push himself back to his full height, she’d jerked up a knee into his crotch. He groaned, pain coursing through his gut, and he almost slumped against the desk as she held her knee in place, crushing and firm, and a hand closed around the back of his neck, holding him firmly in place. 

“You know,” she murmured, her voice like sin-stained satin, “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time. Every single time you called me  _ Mudblood,  _ really. I wanted to bend you over and show you just how filthy a Mudblood I can be.”

She ground her knee into his crotch, and he bit his lip to keep from yelping at the pressure. To his looming horror, his cock twitched, responding to the rough stimulation, and he desperately tried to jerk away from her. He couldn’t. Not with her hand on the back of his neck and her knee grinding into his crotch, crushing his balls with every move, stripping him of his strength. 

“You were thirty minutes past curfew, Malfoy,” she murmured. “I think thirty spanks should suffice.”

“What? Granger! No!”

She didn’t listen. Grinding in her knee further, she slapped him across the left arse cheek, and he yelped, going slacker in his posture. Merlin, his legs were spreading, his bare feet slipping across the floor as she kneaded him into submission, and his cheeks were so hot that he was certain he’d catch fire. Another slap. Crack! Crack! Crack! By the tenth, his arse stung, the skin tinged red. 

It was his cock that betrayed him, however, growing hard as a rock against her knee and tenting his boxers until they felt ready to rip. As she ground up her knee between each spank, his yelps steadily turned to whines, and by the twentieth crack of her palm across his arse, he was whimpering, precum leaking out to stain the fabric. 

“Please,” he pleaded. “Please, Granger, please.”

“Please what?” she murmured.  _ Crack. Crack. Crack.  _ “Stop? Or please go on?”

Draco didn’t know. He hurt, and he didn’t think he’d be able to sit for a week without wincing, but he’d reached thirty. His balls throbbed, but they’d never felt so full, and his cock was harder than a rock as another few droplets of precum dribbled into his boxers. His body was taut and like jelly, breaking and standing firm, and her fingers were like a vice upon the nape of his neck. 

“Good boy,” she said, patting him on the small of the back as she pulled away. The thirty spanks were done, and he dropped to his knees, slick with sweat and aching, and she was already turning to leave. She wasn’t even looking at him, and he couldn’t help but feel tainted by her idea of punishment. 

Shakily, Draco realized he was alone as the door clicked shut behind him, and he began to dress. He desperately needed a wank, and he needed a fucking balm for his arse even more. There was no way he’d be able to sleep on his back tonight. Fuck. Granger. What the fuck was that? 

He’d never be able to look her in the eye again, let alone spit out an insult, not after she’d made him whine like a bitch in heat by abusing his fucking balls. 

Draco stumbled out of the room, his hair disheveled and his body quivering. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, he slunk back to his dormitory, hoping beyond hope that the bathrooms were free so he could take a long—a very long—shower. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Draco wore a grim expression as he ducked into the secret passageway on the fourth floor, well aware that he’d once again found himself out past curfew because of the ineptitude of his friends.  _ Fuck Pansy, seriously,  _ he thought to himself, clutching her letters in his hand as he darted down the dusty staircase.  _ Fuck the Gryffindors as well.  _ Truly, this wasn’t Pansy’s fault. If those wretches hadn’t nicked her letters—and Draco knew full well how valuable they were to his friend—then he’d never have had to steal them back, and he’d never have had to sneak around under the cover of darkness, and most of all, he wouldn’t be out past curfew… again. 

He swallowed thickly, memories of his last bout of rule-breaking clouding his mind as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Pausing behind the exit of the passageway, he winced at the reminder of Granger finding him in that classroom. It had been  _ humiliating _ , but even he couldn’t deny that the fap he’d had that night had been one of the best in his life. Merlin, but that bossy bushy-haired bitch had awakened something in him that he never wanted to repeat because of the shame, even if he acknowledged he’d likely never forget the way her knee had brutally ground into his crotch, or the sharp crack of her palm against his backside. 

Shaking himself, he pulled the tapestry concealing the exit aside and glanced around the dimly lit corridor. It was deserted, and it would only be a few more minutes until he’d reached the safety of his common room. Checking one more time, just to be safe, he darted out of the passageway, keeping his gaze fixed on the path ahead. 

_ Fuck those Gryffindors,  _ he thought again. Taking Pansy’s letters—letters her father and brothers had sent from their cells in Azkaban—had been needlessly cruel. His friend could be grating and rather bitchy when she wanted to be, but she didn’t deserve  _ that.  _ Like him, she’d been a baby during the first war, and she’d been a scared teenager during the second. Even if her family were criminals, like  _ him _ , like  _ his father,  _ it didn’t mean that she didn’t love them. It didn’t mean that the so-called heroes had any right to steal the letters they’d sent her. 

Draco gritted his teeth as he rounded the corner that led to the dungeons, and he came to a screeching halt. Nearly stumbling over himself in his momentum, the colour drained from his face at the sight of Granger standing in front of him with one hand on her hip and the other on her wand, and the glare of her  _ lumos  _ was almost blinding in its intensity. 

“Granger.” He forced himself to chuckle as he backed away. “I didn’t know it was your night to patrol the castle.”

“Dennis is in the hospital wing,” she said with a shrug. “I’m covering his rounds. It seems you just can’t keep yourself out of trouble, can you, Malfoy?”

“Believe me, I’ve been trying.” His smirk forced, he backed away a little further, stifling a gulp as he found himself pressed against a wall. “Your lovely Gryffindors played a nasty trick.”

“I’m aware.” She smiled. “I dislike taking points from my own house, but they were a bit out of line with that last stunt. You’re going to have to thank them for getting caught as well. If Parvati and Seamus hadn’t come and confessed they’d nicked those letters and that you’d stolen them back, I’d have never decided to patrol the dungeons.”

_ Fucking Gryffindors.  _

“So, I’ll just be on my way then,” he said, steeling himself as he made to walk past her. 

With shocking movement, she grasped him by the arm. He stilled, his shoulders tense, already wincing at the stray thought of what she’d do to him this time, but what could he do?  _ Fuck Pansy. Fuck those letters. Fuck the Gryffindors. And fuck Granger as well.  _ This was certainly abuse of power, but who in the world would believe him when it was her word against his? 

“You’ll be coming with me, Malfoy,” she said. “Or we could go to the headmistress’ office instead. What was it she said about putting a toe out of line?”

Gritting his teeth, he followed her without a word. There was no point in arguing, not when he’d already had this conversation with her a few weeks ago. The castle was unnaturally quiet as she led him into a disused classroom, shutting and locking the door behind her before finding a perch on the nearest desk. He shuddered, waiting, hoping that she’d settle on a jinx instead of… 

He shook his head, not wanting to think about it. Yet, the next word that left her lips sent all his hopes spiralling into oblivion, and he could only glare in response. 

“Strip.”

Never dropping his glare, he did as he was told. He knew the drill after the first... incident. Shoes, shirt, vest, socks, and pants… until at last he was standing in front of her in his underwear once again, his cheeks flushed as she raked her gaze across his body. Her pinky was between her lips again, and there was that glint in her eye again, the one he wasn’t sure he liked. 

“Emerald green,” she murmured as she glanced at his form-fitting boxers. “How Slytherin.”

“It’s a good colour on me,” he retorted, almost choking on his false bravado as she got to her feet and approached him. 

“It is.” She grinned, her eyes glinting, and she slipped out of her shoes. “Sit. Keep your legs spread.”

Apprehensively, he did as he was told. Idly, he knew how exposed he was in that moment, sitting on the cold floor in his underwear with his legs spread open in front of him, his bulge on full display. Idly, he wondered if she’d get down onto the floor as well, or if she actually was planning on using a spell to spank him tonight. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the swift kick to his crotch, and he grunted as her stockinged foot lingered over his aching groin, keeping him from clapping his hands over it as he so desperately wanted to. Almost delicately, she ran her toes along his bulge, and to his horror, he was beginning to get hard through the haze of pain. It was barely noticeable at first, but when the second kick caught him in the nuts, his cock snapped to attention. Red-faced, he looked up at her, his cheeks blazing and his eyes dripping with his shame, but all she had for him was that glint in her eyes and teasing smile. 

“Enjoying yourself, Malfoy?” she said, all but standing on his crotch, the pressure increasing with each second. A drop of precum beaded at the tip of his cock before smearing across the fabric of his boxers, and he groaned as she began to roll the balls of her feet over his bollocks, her toes brushing against his erection. 

“No.” He almost whined before catching himself, and another drop of precum spilled free. He winced. If he didn’t get it together soon, there’d be a visible stain, and he’d never be able to live with the mortification. 

She pulled back her foot before kicking him again, and this time he couldn’t stop himself from jerking away. His legs snapped together as he dragged himself across the floor, his hands flying to his crotch as tears brimmed in his eyes, and he ached. His glare fell away, and when he looked up at her again, he hated the vulnerability that had to be showing in his eyes. 

“Are you sure?” she asked, trailing her stockinged foot along his thigh. Her eyes glinted as his breath hitched, because no, he wasn’t sure, because his head was screaming to run while his cock was begging for more. Without waiting for him to reply, she knelt, bracing her hands against his shoulders and pressing her knee against his crotch, which was still shielded by his hands. 

“Be a good boy, Malfoy,” she said with a smirk. “Move your hands.”

The threat was clear in her voice, and he nodded. His breath coming in ragged pants, he slowly pulled his hands away, groaning as her knee pressed against the damp spot of his underwear.  _ Fuck.  _ Despite trying to keep his face impassive, he couldn’t hide his emotions while under her ministrations: that brutal grinding of her knee, the smear of precum seeping into his boxer-briefs, the way her nails dug into his shoulders, the scent of her perfume. He groaned, grateful that he was on the floor because had he been standing, he’d have fallen. 

“Granger,” he whimpered. “You’ve made your point.”

“You think so?” Her sweet breath wafted across his face, carrying with it a hint of spearmint. “I don’t… but I suppose I should be getting back to my rounds.”

Clambering off him with an imperceptible smile, she cocked her head to the side. She turned away, leaving him aching with pain and desire, and he had to bite down on his tongue to keep the strangled sound of frustration from spilling forth. As the door clicked shut behind her, realization came crashing down. Trying to catch his breath, he scrambled across the floor for his clothes. 

Never again. This had to be last time. It had to. Whatever twisted game that Granger played to get her rocks off could very well be done without someone who wasn’t him. Nope. She’d had her fun. 

Buttoning his shirt, he hobbled across the classroom and yanked open the door. A bit of folded paper fell out of the lock, and he hesitated, recognising her familiar handwriting. Gritting his teeth, he bent over and picked it up, and his cheeks burned red as he read the words. 

_ Filthy little Pureblood. _

**Author's Note:**

> As you can note by the tags, I have many ideas in mind for future chapters. However, I am open to prompts. Feel free to make requests, and I'll do my best to honor those in later chapters.


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